


just be careful (love ain't simple)

by BookPirate



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12035286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookPirate/pseuds/BookPirate
Summary: Chris goes missing. Jill's having a hard time dealing.Post-RE6





	just be careful (love ain't simple)

**Author's Note:**

> #WhereIsJill2k17
> 
> A little OOC but whatever. Plot and then smut.
> 
> Title from 'No Promises' by Demi Lovato and Cheat Codes

There’s only so much stress she can take, Jill thinks, before she feels the need to stab something.

Not that her life has been very stressful lately. She’s only been reinstated for active duty by the BSAA in the past six months, something she’d been pushing for for the two years leading up to it. She understands, intellectually, that desk duty, after a year and a half of healing and testing, was the best option to start off an agent who was presumed dead and then found out to be a brainwashed, genetically-engineered super-soldier who couldn’t even recognize her best friend until she had almost killed him.

Still. She feels more like herself when she’s got a gun at her hip and a mission to complete, and she knows she could’ve made the director see that, if he were still O’Brian, but O’Brian’s retired and the new guy doesn’t care that she was one of the original eleven. A potentially compromised agent is enough of a loaded gun waiting to go off that he was right to put her on desk-duty for a year, even if she hated it. And she definitely hated it. Especially because if she had been cleared earlier, maybe she could’ve been reinstated as Chris’s partner for the mission in Edonia, and maybe Chris would be home safe by now. But he’s not.

No, instead he’s been severely injured, and MIA from the hospital he was supposed to be recovering in, and Jill has learned all of this information within the last few minutes.

“What do you mean he’s missing?” she hisses as she rubs at her temples. “How do you lose a fucking BSAA agent?”

Barry sighs, looking as tired as she feels. “I don’t know, Jill. I wasn’t there. But they’ll find him. The director’s put the best people on this.”

“But not me,” she snarls, pacing the room, feeling like a lion in a cage. “I should’ve been there.”

“You know Chris wouldn’t have been able to concentrate if you were there. He’d be too busy worrying.”

She scoffs, finally sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. “No, he wouldn’t. He knows I can handle myself. He’s a professional.”

He looks at her with a hint of exasperation. “Not around you.”

She wants to argue, but she knows he’s right. For three years Chris had believed she was dead, died defending him, and she can only guess at the guilt he experienced. Then, to find out that not only was she alive, but brainwashed by Wesker? She can’t even imagine how he must have felt.

“You should go home, get some rest,” Barry finally says, snapping her out of her reverie. “I’ll call you and let you know if anything changes.”

She gives him a wry smile. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around? You have a family to get back to. I don’t.”

He rolls his eyes. “Something tells me the director’s not going to want you underfoot in the next few days. There was a reason he sent me to tell you what’s going on.”

She wants to argue so she can stay and hear things first-hand, but a part of her knows he’s right, and that she’ll be removed from active duty in an instant if the director decides she’s jeopardizing anything. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Get some sleep,” he advises her on her way out, “no use in staying up worrying.”

The advice is good, but it doesn’t stop her from doing what he said not to, and spending most of the night reading the debriefs of missions Chris’s been on, hoping to glean some insight into where he would go. He’s gone missing before, but she’s always been able to do something about it, and she hates that this time around she’s being forced to sit on the sidelines.

She learns nothing useful, but finds some comfort in reading about his exploits. After a certain point she decides to go over some of the debriefs of missions they ran together, just so she can remind herself of how capable he is. There is nothing she takes more pride in than being his partner. Or, having been his partner, even if it came with all the gossip.

She knows there have been rumors about their relationship, how in sync they are and how much they care for one another, and that they must be fucking. Everyone around them who didn’t know them would whisper and say there’s no other way for a man and a woman to be so close and to trust each other so implicitly. It never used to bother her, back before she was taken by Wesker, just like she’s sure it never bothered him.

But it bothers her now, since she was rescued from Wesker’s grasp, and she realized he was the only thing keeping her going through the long and painful process of deprogramming. She loves him, has loved him for a long time, and wishes she knew how to tell him, or had at least tried to tell him, before he went missing.

Her ebbing stress comes back full force, and she decides to give in and start throwing knives at the wall until she gets sleepy. Hopefully by that time she’ll have managed to convince herself he’s going to come home soon.

* * *

But he’s not. He’s been found, in Eastern Europe, apparently struck with amnesia. She’s not allowed to know exactly where, since the director still doesn’t want her throwing a wrench into things. Barry still slips her information as he finds it out, but once Piers recovers and is back into the equation, she’s pushed further out of the loop.

“Look, Jill, we don’t know where his head’s at,” Piers explains. “Seeing you, knowing how important you are to him, might push him into a break we’re not prepared for.”

“No one knows him better than I do. You don’t think I’d be an asset to getting him back?” she demands.

He runs a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. “Yeah, you would, if we were interested in getting him back.”

She stills. “What do you mean?”

“He’s been through a lot in the past six months, Jill. We’re going to give him some space to recover."

Her mind goes blank for a moment. “ _What?_ ”

“The doctors think it’s post-traumatic stress disorder giving him the amnesia. We don’t want to push him into a full on break, and you might exacerbate that.”

“You can’t possibly think that.”

He sighs. “It doesn’t matter what I think, and you know that. The director doesn’t want you on this, so you’re going to stay out of it.”

“And what’s stopping me from flying out and finding him myself?” she asks him, voice calm like she’s not teeming with rage on the inside. But that’s what she’s known for, right? For being cool under pressure. Even if she does find it a little harder to maintain her cool these days.

“Because you don’t want to risk the doctors’ being right. If you’re the one to push him into a psychotic break, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

She hates that she’s so transparent, that her relationship with Chris is so obvious. She wonders if he’s ever gotten the shit she’s getting now. “Just, take care of him for me, okay?”

Piers softens. “You’re not the only one who cares about him, Jill. But I will.”

“Thanks.”

Since she’s been refusing big missions, instead focusing on things that can be easily taken care of within a few days, she stays at the office just long enough to file some paperwork, before heading out to her car, the conversation with Piers running through her head. Before she can exit the building, however, she’s stopped in the lobby by a voice. “Jill!”

She turns, just in time to catch the younger Redfield, who throws herself at her. Jill tightens her arms around the girl. “Claire.”

Claire pulls back enough to look Jill in the face. “How are you doing? Have you heard about Chris? What -”

“I don’t know anything,” she says, hating the look of disappointment that crosses Claire’s face. “They’re keeping it need-to-know.”

“And you don’t need to know?”

She sighs. “Not according to the director. They’re afraid I’ll trigger something if I go after him.”

Claire is incredulous. “And you believe that?”

“I can’t risk it,” Jill admits. “I can’t be the one to push him over the edge.”

“You wouldn’t. I _know_ you wouldn’t,” Claire insists. “He needs to be here, and you’re the best person to bring him home.”

“Still.” Jill gives the girl a tight smile. “I assume you’re here to see Piers?”

Claire looks disappointed, but lets her change the subject anyway. “Yeah, he’s going to give me a rundown. I was going to request some time off from TerraSave, but he told me not to bother. I didn’t know if I should believe him or not.”

Jill scrubs at her face. “Between you and me I would agree with him. They won’t give me much detail but from what I understand this is going to drag on months. They know where he is but they’re refusing to bring him in.”

“ _Why?_ ” Claire asks angrily. “If they know where he is, then why the fuck aren’t they bringing him in?”

“You’re going to have to ask Piers that.” Jill pulls her into a hug. “Listen, if you need a place to crash or you just want to grab dinner, I’ll be at my place, okay?”

Claire squeezes tightly before letting go. “Thanks, Jill.”

“He’s gonna come home safe, okay?” Jill gives her a smile she doesn’t quite believe herself. “He has to.”

* * *

It’s roughly two and a half months later when shit hits the fan in China. Jill bursts into Piers’ office just as he’s clearly heading out. He scowls at her when he looks up. “Jill, I don’t have time for this.”

“No, no, let me get this straight,” she snaps as she follows him out the door. “We’re supposed to leave Chris alone for his own good, except when the BSAA needs another body on the line.”

He turns to her abruptly. “You should know better than to accuse me of that, Jill. For fuck’s sake.”

“Then take me instead,” she insists. “I’m just as good as he is. We don’t even know if he’s capable of returning to his role as an agent yet.”

“No, this is the same shit from Edonia. It has to be Chris.” He runs a hand through his hair. “You have to stay here. I’m not letting you jeopardize this mission.”

“ _Let_ me?” She pushes him. “Fuck you, Nivans.”

“Orders from the director, Valentine.” He softens. “He’ll be back before you know it. That’s what you want, right?”

“Not like this,” she tells him, defeat coursing through her veins. “Just,” she sighs, “just get him back safe.”

“I will.” He begins walking away from her again, and this time, she lets him. “See you soon.”

It’s hard to return to normal after the conversation. She feels like she’s waiting on tenterhooks for any news, and can’t stop herself from asking for daily updates from Barry, who is, as has been the norm lately, more in the loop than she is. “For God’s sake, Jill, you’ll know when I know.” Barry frowns as he rummages through his desk. “It’s only been a week, give it time.”

“It’s not just me, Barry, Claire wants to know, too.”

He looks up at her with something like pity in his eyes. “I know. Moira’s been over to her place almost every day since they left for Lanshiang. He’s gone missing before, Jill, you know the drill.” He pauses, like he’s thinking his next words over. “But I know this is the first time you haven’t been able to go after him.”

“It was a mistake.” She leans against his doorframe. “I should’ve gone after him when I had the chance.”

He walks over and clasps her shoulder. “He needed the space. He’s been through a lot of shit you haven’t been around for.”

She runs a hand over her face. “I know, believe me. I regret it every single day.”

“You can’t do that to yourself. Wesker had his hands on you, and there was nothing anyone could do, Jill.” He pulls her into a quick hug. “But it’s a damn shame, and I’m glad beyond words you’re back.”

“Yeah, me, too.” She leans into the hug briefly before pulling away. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.”

“Maybe visit the shooting range in the next couple of days. I know it relaxes you.”

She huffs a laugh. “Good idea.”

* * *

Eventually she manages to convince herself that it’s just a normal mission, and Chris will be back soon, safe and sound, and she can push to become his partner again, and right the world’s wrongs. She’s still antsy, however, and has taken to turning a corner of her apartment into a mini gym, with a punching bag that she can lash out at.

It’s one such night, where she’s angrier than usual at the fact that the BSAA wants her to start going off on missions again, when she gets a phone call. She scrambles for the phone, breathless as she answers it. “Valentine.”

The voice on the other line crackles. “Jill. - Barry.”

“Barry? I can’t hear you.” She frowns, moving around trying to find a better signal. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

There’s a short burst of static, before Barry’s voice comes through loud and clear. “Jill? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s going on?” Barry almost never calls her, so she’s understandably anxious.

“Nivans is dead.”

“What?” Fear grips her heart, and she sits down hard on her bed. “What happened? Where’s Chris?”

“He’s on his way to the hospital. BSAA in China rescued him yesterday morning. I just got word and figured I’d let you know. You should be able to see him tomorrow.”

It’s like a million pounds have been lifted off her shoulders. “Oh, thank God. Does Claire know?”

“She’s flying in tomorrow. I told her you’d meet her at the airport.”

“Of course. I’ll get in touch with her.” She smiles and flops back. “Thanks, Barry.”

“I told you I’d let you know. Get some sleep. I’m flying in tomorrow night so I’ll see you then.”

“See you.” She hangs up, exhaling slowly as she turns on her side, suddenly exhausted. She hates the fact that Piers is dead, is going to miss his dearly, but even her grief at that can't temper the joy she feels knowing in 24 hours time she’ll be able to see Chris again. She shoots off a quick text to Claire, confirming their meetup time, before falling asleep, still clothed.

When she wakes up, she’s groggy and disoriented. At first, she’s not sure why she’s woken up, because it’s pitch black outside and her phone says it’s close to 3:30 in the morning. She’s about to fall asleep again when she hears a soft knock on what must be the front door. She rushes to get up, reaching for her gun on instinct as she heads for the door. She keeps it chained out of habit, so she only cracks the door open to peer outside.

A familiar figure is on the other side of the door, looking weary and worse for wear. “Jill?”

She slams the door shut and fumbles with the chain before throwing it open, gun dropped to the floor in haste. “Chris.”

He gives her a smile that makes him look even more exhausted than he did before. “Hey.”

She buries her face in the crook of his neck as he wraps his arms around her, his hands running up and down her back as if he’s trying to reassure himself that she’s real. She holds him just as tightly, so tight she’s afraid he might not be able to breathe. “I thought you were supposed to be in the hospital. I was gonna come see you tomorrow.”

He shifts so his arm is around her, and he’s more leaning on her than embracing her. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t really feeling it.”

“Did you tell anyone where you were going?” she asks as she steers him towards the couch.

He sits down heavily and pulls her next to him. “I left a note. Learned my lesson from last time.”

She runs a hand through his hair, short as it is. “Want some water? You’ve got to be exhausted.”

Before she can get up, however, he tugs on her wrist to keep her down. “Just, stay, Jill, please.”

“Okay,” she adjusts herself so her hand is back in his hair, and he’s leaning up against her, “whatever you need.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and she takes the peace to enjoy his presence. It’s been awhile since it’s been like this, just the two of them with nothing to do, probably since before 2006. She closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of his breathing as she starts to drift off. She’s stopped, however, by the feeling of Chris’s fingers sliding through her hair. “Your hair is still blonde,” he murmurs, rubbing the strands between his fingers. “It used to be brown.”

She opens her eyes to look at him, the way he’s looking so intently at her hair. “It grows that way, now.”

“And your strength?”

“Not like it was, back in Africa. But I’m still stronger than I used to be.”

He frowns a little, like he does when he’s thinking. “I remember. I thought I forgot that, too.”

“What did you forget?” she asks quietly.

Something tells her not to push him too hard, but she still can’t keep the curiosity from seeping into her voice. It’s quiet for long enough that she feels she should take it back, and is about to when he finally speaks. “Were you briefed on my mission to Edonia?”

“No.” She gives him a rueful smile. “They were afraid I’d go after you if it went south.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Of course.” There’s a few more beats of silence before he sighs. “I lost my entire squad, Jill. Everyone except for Piers," he swallows, “and now I lost him, too.”

“Oh, Chris.” He doesn't want to hear sympathies after such a situation, she knows, so she just lets his head fall against her shoulder. She keeps her hand in his hair and hums until his breathing evens out, quickly following him as he falls asleep.

When she wakes up the next morning, her neck is stiff and back aching. The warm weight of Chris against her, however, makes it worth it. She tries to stretch without disturbing him to look at the clock on the wall. She can barely make out the 8, when Chris awakes with a grunt next to her. “What time is it?”

“Eightish.” She yawns and rubs at her eyes. “Your sister needs to be picked up from the airport in an hour and a half, and I don’t even want to know how pissed the director is right now.”

She feels rather than sees his grin as it’s pressed against her shoulder. “I told you I left a note.”

“Yeah, because I'm sure he's going to react well to that.” She shifts to look at him. “You want to shower? You look like shit.”

He snorts. “Thanks.” He sighs, and looks down at himself. “Although you’re right. I don’t suppose you’ve got any clothes that’ll fit me, do you?”

She groans as she sits up, rubbing at her neck. “Yeah, I should have some stuff. Go ahead and hop in, I’ll drop it on the sink counter.”

“Thanks.” He smiles at her. “Hey, Jill.”

She tries to hide another yawn as she stretches. “What?”

“I missed you.”

The honesty in his voice takes her a little bit by surprise, but she softens as she looks at him. “Yeah, I missed you, too.”

* * *

It turns out the director isn’t as mad as he could’ve been, and the next few days are a whirlwind of debriefings and doctor’s visits. Jill requests time off work, something that’s immediately granted, and Claire stays long enough to be reassured her brother is going to be okay. They drop her off at the airport together before going back to Jill’s apartment, so she can cook him dinner after days of having to live off of hospital food.

“And what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Chris asks with a grin as he pops a piece of grilled chicken into his mouth.

Jill laughs as she slaps his hands away. “I’ll cook you my mom’s teriyaki recipe if you let me. You're a menace, Redfield.”

“Sorry, sorry!” He raises his hands and backs away, taking a sip of the water glass in his hand before sitting down behind her kitchen island. “I haven’t had your food in seven months, excuse me if I’m looking forward to it.”

She eats a piece of chicken herself as she gets the sauce going. “So, not to put a damper on things, but what’s your final prognosis? You never told me.”

“Bruised ribs, couple of bullet holes that need healing,” he takes another sip, “nothing too big.”

“I’m pleasantly surprised.” She smiles at him. “And the director?”

He sighs. “One year leave, plus mandated therapy once every two weeks. No discussions.”

She nods, passing him a plate of veggies to munch on. “That seems pretty good, actually.”

He frowns at her. “It sounds like shit to me.”

She shrugs, focusing on her piece of carrot. “It sounds better than a year of extensive psychological and physical testing. At least you’re not sequestered.”

“Oh, shit, Jill,” he groans and grabs her hand from across the island, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She sighs. “You’ve been through a lot,” she squeezes his hand, “and I know it sucks, but you’ll be back on your feet in no time.”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve been through worse, and you’re still here.”

The way he’s belittling himself is getting under her skin. “For fuck’s sake, Chris, it’s not a pissing contest.” She turns back to the pot, trying to slip her hand out of his.

“Christ, I’m making a mess of things.” He grips her hand tightly with both of his own. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What _did_ you mean?” she asks, scowling.

He sighs. “I thought you were dead, but you weren’t. It was like something from a dream.”

She scoffs. “A nightmare, more like.”

“No, definitely a dream,” he says, smiling. “You came back to me, Jill. You’re my best friend.”

Her heart swells. “You were the only thing that kept me going, those years with Wesker. Did I ever tell you that?”

His smile grows. “No, you didn’t.”

“Well, it’s true.” She feels bashful suddenly, unsure of the direction the conversation is going in. “Now, if you want to eat, I have to get back to the stove.”

“Just,” he huffs, “wait a moment, will you?”

She raises an eyebrow. “We can still talk if I cook. It’s called multitasking.”

He rolls his eyes. “I know, but this is important. I’m just trying to figure out how to say it.”

“Just spit it out, Chris. It’s only me,” she reminds him.

“Yeah, that’s the issue.” He takes a deep breath, holding it before exhaling. “You were the reason I came back, because I almost didn’t.”

Her blood runs cold. “Why didn’t you almost come back?”

“I became a drunk over the past few months, refused to remember what was important to me. I was mean, and I’m ashamed of it,” he tells her honestly. “Piers was disgusted by me when he came to get me.”

“He cared about you a lot, you know that right?” She intertwines their fingers, squeezing.

He gives her a wry grin, tinted with sadness. “Yeah, I know. Still, he had a right to be disgusted. And I didn’t want to get better,” he pauses and holds her gaze, “but then I remembered you. And I knew I had to get back to you.”

Her heart seems to still in her chest. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you mean everything to me, Jill, and I thought I was never going to be able to tell you that to your face.” Still keeping their fingers laced, he steps around the island to cup her face with his free hand. “I don’t want to keep pretending I’m not in love with you. I’m all in, if you are.”

She assumes, at some point, she’ll be able to formulate words again, but for now she’ll have to settle for throwing her arms around him, burying her face into his neck. She clings to him, and as his arms wrap around her she can’t remember a time where she was this happy. They sway on the spot a little, and when she finally feels she’s got a better handle on her emotions, she pulls back just enough to see his face. He’s smiling at her, a twinkle she rarely sees present in his eyes. She strokes his cheek, grinning back. “You know, we’re going to have to disclose this to HR. And they’ll probably never let us go out into the field with each other again.”

“We can work around that,” he assures her, resting his forehead against hers. “We’ve got a great record.” He pauses. “So, can I kiss you now, or -”

She laughs before pressing her lips to his, and it’s everything she’s ever dreamed of. His mouth is warm and firm against hers, and when his tongue pushes past her lips, he knows exactly all the right spots to hit that has her melting into his arms. She can't stop herself from running her hands through his hair, gripping the back of his neck so he can't get away. His hand goes up to her ponytail, twisting her locks through his fingers as he continues to kiss her senseless.

They only break apart when she smells something starting to burn. “Shit, the sauce.”

He laughs and follows her to the stove, where the sauce sits ruined at the bottom of the pan. “We could get a pizza.”

She grins up at him. “We could.”

“It’ll take 20 minutes to arrive, though.”

“Oh, no, whatever will we do?” she asks, teasing.

He reaches down and squeezes her hip. “I can think of a few things.”

She laughs and bats his hand away. “Oh, no. I’m hungry and I don’t want to get distracted.”

“Are you sure?” He walks her back, sliding his hands down her arms.

“No.” Shivering, her back hits the wall.

He crowds her against it, caging her in. “You know,” he says, voice low and rough, as he moves his head down to nuzzle her neck, “you never said it back.”

She sighs as he moves his lips against her neck gently. “I love you. I always have.”

He pulls back to look at her, pressing his lips against hers softly. Something seems to change after a moment, a hunger overtaking them that wasn’t there before. The kiss becomes urgent, a ferocity that has her melting. She grabs at his shoulders as he runs a hand down her leg, pulling it around his waist. A moan escapes her as he grinds his hips against hers, his erection pressing against her in the most delicious way. She scrabbles for purchase as he lifts her up, locking her heels behind him as he swings her towards the kitchen island, sweeping his arm behind her to knock things to the floor.

Distantly, she hears the shattering of a glass, but can’t find it in her to call attention to it. She’s too busy focusing on the way he’s biting into her neck. She rakes her nails up his back, grabbing on to his shirt and trying to get it up over his head. He pulls back long enough to remove it completely, and she runs her fingers over the broad expanse of chest now visible as he manages to open all the buttons on her shirt with a single tug.

“Chris,” she gasps as his mouth finds her breast, nipping at it as he pulls her bra down just far enough to run his thumbs over the curves of her chest. Her hands go to his face as she tugs him back for a kiss. The scrape of tongue and teeth distracts her enough that she’s surprised to suddenly be back in the air, as he takes her to her bed, hands gripping her thighs with iron strength. Her back hits the bed, hands immediately going to his pants’ zipper as she tries to rid him of the rest of his clothing. He steps back to kick out of his shoes and pants, reminding her to do the same. She can’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his hands on her as he crawls back over her, lips finding hers in a hungry kiss.

His fingers slide down her body, reaching between her legs and groaning at the sopping wetness he finds there. “Fuck, Jill.”

“Yes, yes,” she pants, hips pushing up into his fingers, “that, please.”

He starts moving down her body, but she pulls him back up, kissing him. He moans as her hand finds his erection. “Jill, I want to make you feel good.”

“You can go down on me later,” she promises, mind hazy with want, “but I really just want you in me right now.”

His breathing is ragged as he buries his face in her neck. “How can I resist when you put it like that?”

He takes his time lining up with her, thumbs brushing her sides as he looks down at her, an intensity in his eyes that has her mesmerized.

The first push of him into her has her seeing stars, her hands finding his ass so she can urge him to go as deep as possible. It takes them a few tries to get the right rhythm, but soon their hips are snapping together, and has her holding him tightly so she can keep up. A pressure inside her keeps building as he begins to move in a more deliberate way, panting harshly as he grinds against her clit. It’s not long until she begins to press her fingers into his shoulders, raking them down his back and drawing blood as she cries his name.

He hisses but doesn’t stop moving, waiting until she comes down from her high to lose control, his own orgasm overtaking him as he collapses on top of her. “I love you,” he murmurs against her shoulder.

“I love you, too,” she breathes, sated and boneless. She strokes his back lightly, resting her head against his.

Eventually he grunts and rolls off of her, pulling her to him. “Still want that pizza?”

“In a bit.” She sighs, snuggling closer. “It’s been a long six months.”

“A long life, more like.”

“Very true.” She yawns and closes her eyes, brushing her nose against his. “Hey.”

He grunts, clearly already drifting off. “What?”

“I’m glad you’re back.”

He kisses her softly. “Yeah. me, too.”


End file.
